


The Simplest Touch

by pluto



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/pseuds/pluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke loves Anders' hair, from beginning to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Simplest Touch

**Author's Note:**

> for kinkmeme, though I suspect this turned out a bit more serious than the requester expected? I meant it to be fluffy and sexy, but it went other places.
> 
> Prompt: _Anders' LI really loves Anders's hair; the color, the feel, the length everything. They take any chance they can to take his hair down or run their fingers through it, stroke it, anything._
> 
>  _Anders doesn't mind at all, in fact he LOVES the attention._

Hawke is always touching. Merrill's arm, Varric's shoulder, Bethany's hand. Once (or maybe twice) Isabela's ass. And ever since their urgent kiss in his Darktown clinic and all that followed, Anders' hair.

The first time Hawke does it outside of the bedroom, Anders almost jumps. They are leaning over a map of the Wounded Coast, the day after their first night together. Anders' bottom lip still burns from too many sloppy kisses and too many encounters with Hawke's beard. They're still burningly aware of each others' bodies; Anders can't keep his thoughts in a straight line, with Hawke so close. Hawke says,

"This is where Solivitus thought we might find that flower--Harlot's Blush." Hawke laughs. "Quite the name, isn't it?"

His fingertips skim the back of Anders' neck as he speaks, freezing the mage's breath in his chest, and then drift upwards. They scrub through the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck, curling into the soft, longer strands above.

"Maker!" Anders gasps, first leaning back into the touch, then stepping away from it, forward. "That's--" He laughs. "--a little distracting. Do you want my help with this or not?"

Hawke's mouth curls into a mischievous cat's grin. "That isn't a fair question," he says, quirking an eyebrow, hand creeping into Anders' hair again.

Somehow they end up in bed all day instead of down on the Wounded Coast hunting rare herbs.

#

They're sitting in the Hanged Man a few days later. Hawke's feet are up on the table and he's barely looking at the cards he's got in one hand. His other hand rests on Anders' shoulder, thumb stroking back and forth--something which, given the newness of their relationship and failure to fully clarify it with the others, is already earning the curious stares of their companions.

Anders is already only half-playing; one more round of betting and he'll be out of money, and by the delight in Merrill's face she's got a better hand than he has, for certain. But then Hawke tosses another sovereign onto the table and says, "I need a bloody good luck charm," and his touch moves upwards. His fingers spread along the back of Anders' head, through his hair, mussing it. Caressing. He finds the tie in Anders' hair and begins worrying at it. Anders half-heartedly protests, reaching up to gently move Hawke's hand away, but the tie comes loose and his hair tumbles down around his face. He laughs and Hawke laughs and Fenris growls,

"We are supposed to be playing Diamondback."

Hawke pulls Anders close and buries his face in Anders' hair and smells it and whispers in Anders' ear.

Varric says, "Hey, I'd offer you two my room, but Bianca wouldn't approve."

Merrill's eyes widen. "Oh. Are you two… oh. Oh my! How cute!"

"Cute?" Anders says, frowning, but then Hawke nuzzles just behind his ear and words fly entirely out of his head. Justice, too, is surprisingly silent. Hawke is not. He murmurs obscene things and Anders is suddenly putting down his cards.

"I fold," Anders says, in a hurry.

"Me too," Hawke says, almost luxuriously.

They don't make it back to the Estate; they end up tangled in an alleyway around the corner from the Hanged Man, Hawke's fists in Anders' hair as they fuck, his lips moving over Anders' stubbled cheeks and throat.

#

What seems a lifetime later, Hawke slips Anders the key to the secret passage from the Estate to Darktown. He captures Anders against a wall even as the key is still warming in Anders' palm, and he murmurs, "You have the most beautiful hair, do you know that?"

And Anders, who has not laughed for weeks, laughs. "I've guessed," he says, "from the seven dozen times you've said it before. And the number of ties you've lost for me."

"Oh?" Hawke says. "That reminds me." He produces a leather thong with small wooden beads at either end.The Amell crest cleverly worked into the beads. "One more gift for you. Practically Feast Day at this rate, don't you think?"

Anders feels something twist inside of him. "You are the kindest man I've ever known," he says, which makes Hawke pull a face.

"That," Hawke says, "is an exaggeration. Now let's try it out."

He steers Anders around to face the wall, tugs the current tie out of his hair. He strokes fingertips along Anders' scalp as he gathers up the loose red-gold locks, pulls them tight. Binds them with the new thong and then presses a kiss to the back of Anders' skull.

"There," Hawke murmurs. "Now everyone knows you're mine."

More kisses travel down Anders' neck as Hawke leans him into the wall. Anders moans and moves back against Hawke. Thinks that he will look up that text on sela petrae another day.

#

When Hawke surprises Anders in his Darktown clinic, he touches Anders' hair. He moves one hand forward, brushes a stray hair out of Anders' face, reaches back to stroke the fall of Anders' hair against his neck. Anders knows it will be the last time Hawke touches him so affectionately. And even as Anders leans into the touch, he is all too aware of the bomb waiting in the heart of the Chantry. Of his betrayal of Hawke, of all that he wants to say, but will not, cannot.

"Nothing is greater than love," Hawke says, and his fingers hook in Anders' hair, not the playful tug of their lovemaking but something more fierce, more possessive.

Anders reaches up and covers Hawke's hands and he moves them away, kissing his palms before he lets them go.

"I told you I would break your heart," he says, "Just know that it breaks mine to do it."

After Hawke is gone Anders runs his own fingers through his hair, anguished, tugs at it and rages against all the fates and Fade spirits and himself, and he aches.

#

Anders sits on a crate while the Chantry burns. He feels ice-cold inside, numb, as merciless as Justice. He knows the others are discussing what to do with him, but their words make no sense to him, no more sense than the distant screams of those not immediately killed in the blast. Whatever part of him might feel regret he crushes under the weight of his cause.

He hears the steps behind him, but he doesn't turn.

And then the rough fingertips slide up the line of his spine, up into his hairline; and sure as the first time, the world falls to pieces.


End file.
